


Rose of No Man's Land

by jibjaneen



Series: Historical AUs [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - World War I, F/M, Medical Inaccuracies, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jibjaneen/pseuds/jibjaneen
Summary: For arethouyetliving on tumblr, who suggested:"WW1, a field hospital."





	1. Mid the War's great curse

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another installment of my historical AU's! Decided to go with Chris and Caitlin this time, because they deserve more attention and I love this. 
> 
> General warnings for war, descriptions of medical procedures (even though they're vague!), and other things that come with war. I also don't know anything about nursing or how medical procedures work, so I've either kept it as vague as possible or just put something that made sense. Please forgive any medical or historical inaccuracies, I've tried to be as accurate as possible, without doing a lot of research, so forgive me for mistakes!
> 
> Titles of chapters and the work are taken from the 1918 song "The Rose of No Man's Land."

_Verdun,  
_ _May 22nd 1916_

 

The battle seemed to never end. Four months they had been fighting now. Four months of endless bloodshed, bombshells, amputations and young boys dying under Caitlin’s watch. She’d grown almost immune to it by now. After all, this wasn’t her first rodeo. She’d witnessed Ypres and the horrors of gas inflicted wounds, had helped operate on already rotting flesh; a blown off jaw no longer made her as nauseous as it once would have.

Nevertheless, treating minor injuries was still far more pleasant. If one could call being shot in four separate places a minor injury, that is. Even so, the man she was trying to stitch up right now wouldn’t stop talking, and Caitlin was about 75 percent sure he was delirious with pain- it was either that, or he was really busy distracting himself from it.

“Please lay still,” she said once more, pushing the man back onto his cot so she could take the last bullet out of his leg. He went obediently, but almost immediately tried to sit back up again.

“Did I tell you,” he began, “Did I tell you about my mother? She keeps sending me packages, all the way from China. She always puts treats in it, but they get spoiled before they arrive, which is a shame. Have you ever had Chinese treats? My father and her went there to visit family, when the war broke loose. I think it’s smart they stay there, with the German u-” He cut himself off in the middle of a sentence with a pained groan as Caitlin pulled the bullet out, dropping it into a tin next to her and quickly working on cleaning the wound and bandaging it up.

“You have family in China, then,” she said, trying to distract the man from the pain. His injuries by far weren’t serious enough to give him something strong to dull the pain. “That’s so exotic,” she continued, “Have you ever been?” The man shook his head, as he tried to flex his fingers, despite one of the bullets having lodged right in that arm, causing Caitlin to immediately reach out and stop him from doing just that with a stern look on his face.

The soldier almost looked guilty as he closed his eyes and laid back, obviously forcing himself to not move any more. “I’ve not been to China, no,” he said, “My mother wanted me to finish my studies here first, before I go. I visited Wales once, although I imagine that is nothing alike to China. My father is Welsh, did I tell you that? If I have the chance, I think I would go to America, or perhaps Canada. They are setting up an ice hockey league there, which sounds fascinating. I would like to witness it, even if I could not play in it.” He opened his eyes to look down at the wound Caitlin was cleaning. She’d just hummed and nodded along to his story, not sure what this ice hockey business was about.

“There you go, all done,” she said, pulling the blankets back over his legs, “Now, this needs to heal. The next transport back to England will be here the day after tomorrow, if all goes well. Try and get some sleep, I will be back to check on you.” She would definitely keep an eye on him, and pray he wouldn’t develop a fever or an infection. He nodded, lifting his good arm in a vague rendition of a salute.

“Thank you, nurse…” He looked up at her expectantly, a sentimental expression in his eyes that made Caitlin blush.

“Farmer,” she replied, “And it is my pleasure, private Chow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a gentleman with trench feet who needs his bandages reapplied.” She gave a nod, before striding off, not seeing the dopy expression on private Chow’s face as he stared after her.   

-

It was indeed two days later that a transport arrived, ready to take the wounded back to dear old Blighty. It wasn’t unusual for her to feel sorry seeing lads go, especially the ones not seriously injured. She knew they would heal, and would just be send back. Sometimes they would be back in her care within four months, old wounds barely healed, or not at all; there was one man, Corporal Knight, who she’d met three times already. Every time they would send him home, shaking and with unblinking eyes, and every time he’d return to them after the first bomb hit, even worse than before.

The reason she felt sorry to see private Chow -or Christopher, as he’d insisted she called him- go, was an entirely different one. In the two days, she had found herself drifting towards him more and more, and she’d often sit beside him after her shift, just talking, helping him eat, or making a crossword together. He flirted, sure, but not in the way most of the other soldiers tended to do. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but Caitlin had found herself developing a slight infuriation with the soldier.

 

He had to leave, though, just as any other soldier who came into her care. He was leaning heavily on his crutches as he stood by the ambulance, having insisted he could walk. Caitlin hadn’t bought it, and still wasn’t buying it, purely based on how pale he looked.

“This is it, then,” he said, a little awkwardly, “I.. I hope I will see you again.” He looked up at her with a hopeful expression on his face, which was completely thwarted when Caitlin scoffed.

“I hope I won’t see you again,” she said, crossing her arms- and immediately realizing her error, “I mean, I hope I won’t see you again here. I hope you will not be hurt again, and that you will live.” She gave a hesitant smile, which she was glad to see returned.

“Of course, I will try my best,” Chris said, lifting one crutch slightly so he could tap his hand against the pocket in his coat, “There is paper in there, if you wish to write. My details are there as well.” Now it was Caitlin’s turn to blush, as she nodded and reached into his pocket for the paper and a pencil. She quickly scribbled her own details on it, pressing it back into the pocket while holding onto the scrap of paper containing his details.

“We’ll write,” she promised, “And be safe out there, private Chow.” He once again tried to give her a salute, but this time almost toppled over with the effort. She quickly moved to hold him upright, close enough now that she could easily press a kiss to his cheek. She pulled back from the peck soon enough, face surely the colour of a tomato by now. His was still pale, but that had more to do with the pain than anything else, judging by the wide grin on his face.

“I’ll try my best, nurse Farmer,” he said, as he was helped into the ambulance, “We’ll write.”


	2. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They wrote.

_June 1_ st 1916  
Welsh Metropolian War Hospital  
Cardiff

_My dearest Caitlin,_

_I hope this letter reaches you alright. It has been just over a five days since I have arrived in Cardiff. It is lovely to be back in Wales, but I must admit, I miss your expert care. The nurses here are capable enough, I have no doubt about that. The wound on my leg is not healing as well as the others are. It has not reopened, but it has started to smell. The nurses say I should not worry, but I still do. It smells like the field hospital where we met. (Not that I am implying you or your hospital smell bad! The lingering smell of death and rot is just hard to forget.)_

_I did not want to keep up correspondence to talk to you about my wounds, so I won’t bore you on the subject any longer. I hope you are well. Are you at the front still? I imagine you are, with the battle still raging, saving lives left and right. If my wounds heal, I imagine they will send me back as well. If they do, I will bring your letters with me._

_Curfew is within minutes, so I must cease writing if I have any hope of not being scolded by the orderly again. Perhaps this night will be more quiet. The past few nights my sleep was disturbed by some of he poor sods who are not quite right in the head any longer. I wonder what they have seen, and I hope to be spared of it._

_I am anxious to receive your response._

_I am yours ever,_

_Christopher_

* * *

 

_June 13_ th 1916  
Verdun, France  
  


_Dearest Christopher,_

_What a delight to hear from you! I am relieved you are home and receiving the proper medical care. I would keep an eye on the wound if it truly starts to stink. It often is a sign of infection, and you have witnessed what happens to infected limbs. Please keep me posted on this in your letters, your health is of great interest and importance to me._

_I am indeed still at the front. I have been given a few days leave, so I am writing you from a lovely little tavern in a town behind the lines. It is peaceful here, despite half of the town being in rubble. The people are kind to me, even if the men are rowdy. Luckily they back off when I tell them what I would do should they lay hand on me and they would end up wounded and in my care. My height also helps, for the first time in my life._

_I am enclosing a photograph I had taken recently. I imagine that will be better to take with you than merely my letters. If you can, send me one as well. I would carry it with me, and pray for your health and safety._

_I hope you have slept well. I know I have, in a proper bed once more too. I hope it will not give me more lice, the delousing station remains a joke._

_Yours as ever,_

_Caitlin_

_p.s: Do not concern yourself, I am aware the hospital stinks, and I probably reek of it as well after a days work._

* * *

 

_June 28th 1916_

_Welsh Metropolian War Hospital  
Cardiff_

_My dear Caitlin,_

_With great joy I have received your photograph. I have shown it to all the other soldiers here. I hope it’s alright that I’ve been calling you my girl. They are all mighty jealous, saying how lucky I am to have a lady such as you. A rose of no man’s land, they call you, because you are a nurse. I am never sure what to respond to that, so I usually just agree and suggest we play another round of cards._

_I remain at the hospital, and probably will for a  while. You were right about my leg wound, it indeed became infected. They have had to amputate, which is why my response is so late. (My most sincere apologies for that!) I am still coming to terms with it, but most of my time is taken up by relearning to walk and convalescence, so I do not allow myself a lot of time to think on it. I hope you will not think me a lesser man, now that I am missing part of my leg. The only upside is that I will not be send back to Verdun, or any battle. This of course also means it will be longer before I see you._

_If you do manage to get more leave, or the opportunity to return home, please come to Wales. I enclose my photograph, with my address written on the back. I will return to live with a friend from University there after I have finished my convalescence. He lost his sight in Ypres, so we will make quite the pair together, the blind and the cripple._

_I pray the lice left you alone._

 

_Faithfully and ever yours,_

_Christopher Chow_

* * *

_July 12 th 1916  
_ _Foucaucourt,_ _Somme, France_

_Dearest Christopher,_

_This letter will be short, for there is a lot of work to be done. I am terribly sorry to hear about your leg, but what is this nonsense about me not thinking you a proper man? You are a soldier, and that is that. I would not have cared had you lost your face, or any other bodily function that might deem you manly. Thank you for your photograph, I carry it with me wherever I go. I have been given a promotion, and am now in charge of my own wing at the Somme, near Foucaucourt. I thought Verdun was bad, but the injuries the men come in with here are possibly even worse. (Of course, there are still men with infections in their private areas which I know did not come from enemy fire, or those who did not take care to keep their feet properly dry. We also had the flu going around, which was unfortunate.) I am glad you are safe from this, Christopher. I will visit soon, and write a longer letter too._

_All my love,_

_Caitlin_

* * *

_January 1 st 1917_

_Dover, England_

_My dearest Chris,_

_I have just stepped foot on English shore again, for the first time in two years. I am beyond happy to return, and my journey went just fine. I have written this letter on the boat, so excuse the shaky handwriting. I am being send home indefinitely, to train new nurses for the war. When this was offered, I agreed, on the condition I was to be stationed in Cardiff. This you know, of course, I have written in great detail about the offer in my previous letters. I did not have time to inform you that it has been agreed upon, though._

_I am on my way to you. I don’t know if the letter will be there before I am, or if it will arrive after I do._

_My darling, I cannot wait to lay eyes upon you again, and do so daily if our schedules permit it. Oh, how I long to hold your hand and meet mr. Nurse and read his poems. The ones you have send are splendid- you did tell him I think he should get them published, didn’t you? Either way, I will be able to tell him in person soon. I will be able to tell you all I learned about your precious ice-hockey game from a Canadian soldier who played the game._

_I will be with you soon._

_I love you._

_Forever yours,_

_Caitlin_

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any suggestions or ideas for further AU's, leave them in a comment or shoot me a message on tumblr! (moonmarshal.)


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